Community Theater
by rockpaperscissorslizardrock
Summary: AU. Brittana. It starts as a class...but the act goes on for so much longer
1. Chapter 1

**Get It Together  
**

* * *

"The worst thing that could possibly happen happened today," blond brows lift for dramatic effect. "The part of my glasses that touches my face made contact with the ergonomic pad on my keyboard at work."

"Really?"

"Yes,"

"No…I mean, really that's what you want to talk about?"

"Do you have any idea how nasty that is? Even when it touches the inside of my wrists I get grossed out . It's like…moist—"

"I don't…actually need to know the intricacies of your ergonomic keyboard pad... Wouldn't you like to discuss anything else on your mind?"

Brittany took a moment to think.

"Sometimes I feel like this whole session is a prayer." She looked almost angelic as the words flowed from her mouth, a satiated smile spread across her face.

"I guess, out of context, any conversation between therapist and patient can be seen as such…a conversation between… well…because that would make me….anyway…I suppose it's similar, just without the requests."

Rachel Berry was not a very good therapist. Her possession of a practicing license was debatable. It didn't take very long for Brittany to notice, but the woman came highly recommended by her roommate Quinn. It became apparent that the fact that Rachel didn't practice or "believe" in this "doctor/patient confidentiality nonsense" was more than likely the incentive behind the recommendation. This meant that Quinn could simply pop in on their sessions whenever she wanted to, as she did at the inception of this whole debacle.

* * *

**1 week earlier…**

"I thought you wanted to be a writer." Rachel interrupted.

"Hello?…that's exactly why I'm—" Brittany replied throwing her hands up in exasperation.

"No Brittany…not every writer's workshop is worth your time…especially not one where writers and actors work _together_. That's like using shampoo that's also conditioner… …it's going to be a disaster on your resume…not to mention the damage to your already dreadful split ends."

"My split ends are awesome."

"Ok. Fine. Do what you want…just don't invite me to opening night….and don't…tell anyone you know me."

"You've always been such a supportive person, Rach." Quinn muttered.

"Shut up Quinn! What's more supportive than honesty? I know about this stuff you guys…hello? My life? —"

"You won't stop talking until I do what you say, huh?"

"No," Quinn and Rachel said in unison.

"Fine. I'll go somewhere else…" Brittany lied.

"Promise?"

"Rachel!"

"I'm serious…this will make or break your career…and by association, mine."

"Yes fine! I promise."

"Good. I'd invite you to my theater…but…"

"_Your_ theater? You're a therapist Rach." Quinn interjected.

"I just do this to pay my agent, manager, and union dues…"  
"Doesn't actually getting booked usually help with that?" Quinn quipped.

"Yes Quinn…" Rachel hissed, "but the industry is going through…well it's complicated and frankly, I don't think you'd understand."

"I understand you're a sucky actress"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh I get it." Brittany interrupted, "Since I'm your patient you don't want me to go to your theater because it'd be inappropriate?"

"Well I was going to say you're not there yet, but sure, let's go with boundaries and all that. "

"Again with the support." Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Shut up Quinn. It's constructive."

_But…_

_Maybe Rachel was right_…Brittany thought as she sat in her first workshop session.

She looked over her shoulder at the doorway to figure out the best way to leave. But what she saw changed her mind altogether. The second she saw her walking in; she knew they'd never be friends. The girl was positively breathtaking… Brittany liked her so much that she hated her. Like…immediately. So, she turned right back around and faced forward. _Jesus_. She thought.

It was that bad. She had to pull herself together after such a sight. The blond took out her phone and checked the time. When she looked back up, there were those coffee eyes burning a hole in hers.

"You're new?" The girl said. She had taken the seat directly in front of Brittany's, like she was some kind of target.

"Yeah," The blond croaked. Apparently not everyone was…in fact, they'd all met a few times before…all except Brittany. Someone had dropped out and Brittany was the sub, unbeknownst to her.

The girl continued talking…smiling…but Brittany couldn't concentrate. This particular face was the most beautiful she'd ever seen. She was literally stunned. None of the other participants had even come to her side of the theater, but this one made a beeline.

Suddenly a slow applause started.

All conversation stopped and everybody looked up at the stage. The director had arrived. She was…a bear of a man…to say the very very least. Large, smelly, and bearded. But actually quite pleasant despite her stringent nature.

The company was to put on 3 separate shows. There were 3 writers and 12 actors, though they'd all be actors at one point, as every writer would get to perform…and even direct a little. Brittany watched the raven-haired girl ask questions. Her shorts rode up as she shifted when she got uncomfortable noticing everyone's eyes being on her. She was oddly outspoken and shy all at once. She was like this ridiculously bright star that preferred to dull its shine. Brittany wanted nothing to do with her.

On their way out, the girl called out to Brittany, calling her something other than her name since she didn't know it yet. Brittany turned, but not before smirking a little bit at the name, which presently escaped her.

"I'm Santana by the way." Said the raven-haired girl with a half-smile.

"Santana?"

"Yeah. What's your name again?"

"Brittany."

"Right Brittany. Well, I'm parked this way Nice meeting you."

"You too."

* * *

"So?" Rachel said. Literally baffled as to how this recounting was in any way pertinent to their session. "How was the _class_? You said nothing about improv exercises…nothing outside of this girl. Did you feel comfortable? Any headaches?"

"No, actually. And I could have sworn I talked about the class…"

"Nope. Just Samantha."

"Santana."

"Whatever. Next time, pay attention to the director. I 'm really surprised that company got Ridley. There's probably some money involved."

"Ridley….that's a …girl's name right?"

"Your hour's up Brittany. Always a pleasure. Leave the check with Tina at the front desk."

* * *

"Your mom called, Other Blond."

Brittany dropped her keys on the table and walked to where she heard Quinn's voice.

"What'd she say?"

"I don't _know._ I don't listen to your messages."

"Oh."

"But I think she thinks you're still in school."

"I thought you didn't—"

"—Asking about your classes and junk…didn't you drop out like a month ago?"

"Not completely. I'm still taking one credit."

"Yeah…that English class…that has nothing to do with your major."

"It's all I have time for with this job."

"Plus it's your favorite."

"Plus it's my favorite."

"That desk job's not even worth it, Britt. If you want time to do what you really love. Here's the number to that catering company I used to work for—"

"—Quinn—"

"—I know I know I know you don't want to do food service again, but you will be paid the same exact wage you're getting paid now, but you'll have flexible hours—"

"And no benefits"

"That you need _so _badly…what are you 80?"

"No…I just need the medical insurance that's all." Brittany uttered the last part of her sentence quietly.

"You're not sick."

"We had an agreement Quinn. You don't bring this up and I babysit Beth for free."

"Whatever. She wanted to see you by the way."

"Pff. Tell her to get out here."

"She won't leave her room. You must go to her."

"You're a horrible parent Quinn."

Quinn shrugged in agreement.

"You're lucky she's a good kid. You spoil the crap out of her." Brittany said walking towards Beth's room.

"I heard that." The little girl said, planted in her most commanding stance as Brittany opened the door. Her tiny arms were crossed and her legs were shoulder's width apart. Her long braid seemed to have unraveled itself with rage.

"I tell you what, Beth. I meant it."

"I am not spoiled."

"What are you doing right now?"

"Standing."

"Aren't you throwing a tantrum?"

"I'm recovering."

"So you just threw one?"

"Yeah."

"Is that how your braid got so…"

Beth nodded fervently. "Mhm."

"Don't spoiled kids do that kind of stuff?"

"Hear me out, Britts. My tantrum was for you. It was a good reason. For real."

"For me?"

"Yes. I was mad at you."

"What? Why?"

"You….." Beth dragged out the word and began to pace, keeping her arms crossed, but continuing to bore her eyes into Brittany's.

"I what."

"Didn't…"

"Oh em gee Beth!"

"Fine. Come sit."

Beth was a ridiculously smart 5 year old with few friends. Brittany had been there since the girl's birth and was the only person who had always addressed her with the same tone she addressed everyone else. Seeing as Brittany didn't feel the need to patronize children with small words or condescension, and Beth had an honesty only Brittany could understand; the two got along swimmingly. They sat on the little girl's area rug in the center of the room, a site designated for most of their serious conversations.

"I didn't what, Little?"

"You didn't give me a forehead kiss this morning." Beth lifted her brows as she'd often seen the older girl do.

Brittany responded by furrowing hers, so Beth continued.

"Every morning before you leave, you give me forehead kisses before you leave. It used to wake me up a little, but I liked it. Now my body gets up just in time to feel it, then goes right back to sleep. But this morning, you skipped. So I didn't go back to sleep….and guess what?"

"What?"

"I was grumpy _all day _because I was short on sleep."

Brittany pulled her mouth to the side of her face.

"Even Bob noticed."

"Well…he is your best friend."

"Yeah well…"

"I'm sorry Beth. I was rushing out, and I guess I forgot."

"Get it together Britt."

"You know what, I can't even argue with you. You're right."

Beth sighed. "Okay. That was it. Glad it's settled."

"Me too my Little." Brittany pulled the girl to her and placed a kiss on her forehead. Beth responded by closing her eyes and smiling wide.

Brittany got up to leave and left the girl on her carpet pulling out a book. As she opened the door, Brittany remembered something.

"Robbie goes by Bob now?"

The girl looked up from her book. "Well no…but we're in first grade now…he needs to grow out of that. I'm just trying to help him out."

Brittany nodded and made her way out.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

**Heeeeeeey guys! Sorry I didn't give you a hello last chapter. This story kinda came as a surprise to me. And I know it's been a little bit since I've posted so…ya know…thought you should all know I missed you and didn't really respond to your comments on the last chapter of Yearbook because people weren't sure if it was an ending and I'm not gonna lie…I ilked that ;) Enjoy! **

* * *

Losing Battle

It's pretty obvious that neither Brittany nor Rachel wanted to be in this office today. Plush gray carpet and egg-yolk walls were nothing in comparison to an August afternoon for which Los Angeles was surely famous. Brittany had walked here slowly; taking in the palm trees and concrete. The contrast still made her smile. Everyday looked like the _Saved By The Bell _beach episodes. A lot of things here looked like things she thought only existed on TV… earthquakes, pastel houses with actual white picket fences, Malibu, people wearing prescription glasses they didn't need…

Honestly it was fascinating.

"It took a lot for me to overlook the fact that you went to the class and intentionally disobeyed my wishes last week."

"You're not my manager Rachel. You can't be the boss of my of my career."

" First of all, you promised you wouldn't go; Secondly, I could be— for an added fee...you see I'm sort of a renaissance woman."

"I knew you looked familiar. Mona Lisa right?"

"No...I'm not _from_ the…It means I do a lot of different things."

"That's not at all what Mona Lisa means. No, I'm pretty sure Mona's like a nickname for Madonna which means—"

"Nevermind Brittany, I'll have a pamphlet prepared for you next week."

Brittany shrugged. "'Kay."

"Why don't you tell me more about the airport,"

"Well, it's like I was saying…It's not that I don't like actually getting on the plane…I like taking trips. I like checking in the night before…it makes me feel like an adult. But what I really love is getting there so early that I can just sit at my gate and drink a hot chocolate with a banana nut muffin. Read a book…maybe even a magazine. No one knows how old I am or… what I do. For some reason, I can write a book off of that feeling alone. So, that's where I go…to write I mean. Most of the time, I don't even need a flight. I just go to the airport. It's like my office or something. I go there when I need to write."

Rachel scribbled and knotted her brows as she wrote. Brittany found it anything but discouraging. So she continued,

"There's like a thousand in-between feelings when you're flying. Between departure and destination, between sky and land…or sea…"

Rachel looked up for a second, in awe of the girl in front of her, and blinked.

"I never thought of it that way."

Brittany simply nodded. "I like all stations really, but I have to say…airports are m'fave."

"You're a very smart girl." Rachel said sincerely.

"I know. You don't have to call me a girl though…I'm pretty sure I'm like older than you."

Rachel chuckled. She was probably right.

Brittany started to get up, ready to wrap this session early so she could catch some delicious daylight. As she did so, she caught Rachel starting to ask a question and cut her off,

"Also…you should probably stop asking me about the headaches. They were just cluster fucks—"

"Headaches…cluster headaches."

"Right…but they weren't the reason I…they didn't make me that way. It was the medicine."

Rachel's eyebrows twitched. "Side effects lasted that long?"

Brittany nodded. "Yeah. But can we not get into it this time?"

"No that's fine…that's actually…the most you've said about your condition since we started so…progress!" Rachel clapped her hands together suddenly and smiled.

Brittany flinched and began to giggle at the brunette's excitement. She took the opportunity to finally start heading for the door.

"And actually Brittany, I wasn't even going to ask about your headaches…or the medicine for that matter. I'd was wondering if I might monitor your participation in this Godforsaken class…at least minimally… any new friends?"

Brittany sits right back down…somehow this topic is more exciting than sunshine. Rachel makes a note.

"No."

_Yes._ Well… Yes and No.

"No? Okay…then how did class go? Start from the beginning."

"This week I almost got there late—"

"BRITTANY!"

"I know I know…but I figured since the director was so late last time—"

"Do you know people get cut from the company for that kinda shit?"

"Rachel don't say shit."

"Sorry."

"Also, let me finish my story."

"Okay."

_"So, I'm like right on time….but of course the director's not there yet. Still, I ran the whole way and I'm like panting as I get to my seat… The whole time that I'm trying to get back to my normal heart rate, I feel someone watching me…and you know I don't get annoyed easily…but this was annoying. It's like they were making fun of me without saying a word. And then they do. They do say words._

_'You're here early,' he says. _

I wanna say…Sam. Yeah Sam's his name. He looks exactly like my big brother Mike...who still thinks it's funny to give me flat tires all the time." Brittany pauses, she knows Rachel wants ask. The blond rolls her eyes and sighs, "A flat tire is when you step on the back of someone's shoe so it comes off while they're walking.

_…So, I ignore this Sam boy, who seems like he would probably take pleasure in such jerkishness, and look around at everyone else. They're all milling about on their phones or glancing at a script—then I'm like script?!_

_'Was I supposed to get a script?' I say to the room._

Brittany starts to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Rachel sighs.

"I just remember how frazzled and shaky my voice was. I heard myself and I remember thinking '_who's this nutjob_?' You know when you get to a class or work right on time, and you're still kind of like, on edge for the first couple of minutes so you don't speak to anyone? Now I know why it's custom to just say 'good morning' and like chill out for the next couple of minutes…if people said anything more it would end up coming out like my crazy squawk yell." Brittany was giggling throughout her entire statement. After a few minutes, she calmed down and was able to continue.

_"It's no wonder Finn, this giant with an arm-full of scripts, gave me a look as he handed me a script and said 'Didn't see you come in. Here you go.' Then the Sam kid snorts and says,_

_'Wow. Freak out much?'_

_I cut my eyes at him then focused back on the script. I gotta admit…I was frowning at it…only because it wasn't mine. I know, I KNOW, that there are only 3 writers and mine'll be performed at some point…I was just kinda hoping it'd be first…but…whatever._

_'It's mine,' says Santana. I know it's her because the voice is low and makes my hair stand on end. Probably because I hate her so much. She's across the aisle and I can tell she's been watching me read for the last few minutes… with a smile on her face? I still don't get why she'd be smiling if I was frowning at her work…but whatever. "_

"How do you know she was smiling?"

"She's got these deep dimples…even when her smile's fading, they stick around."

"Cute." Rachel says off-hand.

Brittany is literally biting her tongue.

"So what happens?"

_"Right. So she says something like,_

_'Well you looked like you were wondering whose it was so—'_

_But she stops when she sees me shrug. And I say, 'Just noticed it wasn't mine that's all'_

"Wow, Britt."

"I know right?" Brittany's smiling wide at her own cattiness "I don't know what it is about this girl, but she brings the Spears out in me."

"Spears?"

"You know…'It's Britney, Bitch.'"

Rachel nods knowingly. "It sure is…it sure is." Brittany resumes her tale.

_'Oh. You're a writer?' Finn says, turning from his task._

_'Don't look so surprised.'_

_'I guess the glasses should have given you away,' Chuckles Sam. I think at this point I'm pouting…I never was very good at being antagonistic…just doesn't come naturally to me. Then, I have this thought about how I'm like acting even before I get on stage and I start giggling…you know to myself…I thought…But this Sam douche is giving me a judging stare._

_'What?' I say._

_And do you you know what he does, Rachel? He lifts his stupid brows and tucks in his lips. Like when people are saying 'nothing' and calling you a fucking weirdo at the same time? Like that. So basically I hate them all…_

_I even start thinking about this is their 3rd class, which is technically my second, and how we're getting their getting scripts so late…like what the shit have they been doing this whole time?_

Rachel lowers her head disapprovingly.

"You know good and well what they were doing."

"No." Brittany resists.

"Their first week was probably introductions and ice breakers. Your first class seemed to have been improv warm up and logistics…and now you get your scripts…and I'm assuming roles as well. You know it's a process."

"Whatever Rachel. I still hate them. And you forgot something."

"What?"

"They got a tour."

"Ooooh. Did you?"

_"Well I took my own once Finn told me they'd gotten one. I got up, climbed the 3 steps to the stage and began to cross it to get backstage._

_'It's dark back there,' a few of them say, but my back's turned. So I ignore them and keep walking…I'm smiling this whole time, but they'd never know._

_But God_

_It really was dark. Behind the swinging doors I groped and it turned out the space back there was pretty tight. So I follow a wall and almost trip down a few steps into a thick curtain. It's like velvety and never ending…I start stroking it for some kind of opening._

_Rachel giggles._

_"Shut up. So I start like, sweating. It is taking FOR-EVER to find any kind of split. Then I hear,_

_'If you're having this much trouble with the curtain, maybe we'll skip the trap door.'_

_My hairs rise as the curtain slides to one side and I see Santana standing smugly in a very well-lit dressing rom._

_Wearing another delighted smile._

_'But…how…how's it so dark? And then…' I walk past her and start looking around._

_'—It's like Vegas in this bitch?'_

_'Yeah… Vegas in this bitch.' I say it like I'm in a dream. I turn around and face Santana to catch her smile soften from mocking to genuine._

_'Movie magic,' she says lowly, taking the lead as tour guide. "These are the dressing rooms. Poor excuses if you ask me…'_

_'…mirrors are nice..' I whisper. Santana shrugs. I can tell even from the back because I'm watching her shoulders rise and fall. She was wearing an old volleyball t-shirt and another pair of denim shorts."_

"How do you know they weren't the same ones?"

"Oh anyone could tell…these were just as short, but more…fitted. Snug. I was walking behind her so…it was pretty hard to miss how amazing they made her ass look. She'd cuffed the bottom too. So while I'm wondering why you would ever cuff such short shorts…my eyes catch the defined muscles in her caramel thighs. I don't know why I couldn't keep my eyes off them…Anyway she gets on all fours all of a sudden. And I start choking on my own saliva…that happens to me sometimes…probably because I was surprised."

Rachel makes a note of what shorts do when you bend over.

_So as I'm choking, I cough out,_

_'What—are you—?'_

_'This is the trap door.'_

_'Under a dressing room mirror?'_

_'Duh..it tunnels back here.' She starts getting in this army crawl position. Her wavy hair's fanning across her back as she shifts her shoulders, making her way into the tiniest square I've ever seen._

_'We won't both fit in there.'_

_She scoots out and turns on her back to face me. She's leaning back on both elbows…and…I guess I made a face 'cause she glances down at her chest then back at me and gives me the most suggestive 'Oh?'_

"Suggestive?" Rachel leans in.

"Like she thought I was looking at her a certain way and she…liked it?"

"Where you?"

"Not on purpose…she's got nice tits." Brittany shrugs.

"Brittany!"

"Sorry. When she leaned back on her elbows…the shirt stretched across her chest…I don't think she was wearing a bra…I got caught up. Sorry."

"So what'd you do?"

"Well I cross my arms…and I leave."

"Leave?"

"She makes me uncomfortable…like the way I just made you feel."

"You were talking about tits."

"Not graphically. I mean…anyone can appreciate a great set."

"Absolutely…but…how do you think it made Santana feel when you walked out like that? I mean, after she was attempting to take you under her wing...being friendly?"

Brittany shrugged, "Don't know. She's not really nice to anyone else…so…I mean I don't think she was being all that pleasant. She was probably fine with it. "

* * *

Santana had pouted alone in the entrance to the trap door for minutes on end. It's just… she'd never been on the receiving end of this…rejection.

She felt like an idiot because all it made her want to do was chase this girl around all day. Even if she was just that. A girl.

And yet. All that mattered was that this girl… was the only person in the entire world who'd looked away when she walked into a room… who didn't visibly swoon at the sound of her voice…who wanted nothing to do with her attention… who was simply non-fucking-plussed by Santana Lopez. By the time Santana returned from backstage, the director had arrived, and the brunette was left smiling awkwardly as she interrupted the class to get to her seat.

* * *

"What are you looking for?"

"I'm dying," Brittany said, her voice muffled, as she rustled thorough the little girl's closet.

Beth gave her a pointed look.

Brittany didn't have to face her to feel the need for elaboration,

"In the play. In the play I'm dying. I need a hospital gown."

But it was too late. The little girl was at her feet, hugging her ankles.

"Little! Relax." Brittany kept her balance by grabbing thee edges of the trunk.

"The only thing worse than telling someone to calm down is telling someone to relax," the girl mumbled into Brittany's converse as she loosened her grip.

"Sorry," Brittany turned slowly as Beth stood.

The little girl looked her over; at first disapprovingly, then resigned.

"I guess I can appreciate the irony. Given that you're all better now."

The last part was said as more of a warning and Brittany caught that, so she simply nodded to reassure the girl and got back to flinging clothes, toys, costumes and wigs out of the closet.

"Who wrote this ridiculous script anyway?" Beth demanded after a while.

Brittany practically spat the name out...she'd never really said it to anyone but Rachel, and she didn't like how the corners of her mouth were starting to rise.

"Oooohhh. Gosh that name's pretty. Like better than a princess…is she a Queen?"

"That she is." Brittany said without thinking and not quite knowing what she meant.

"I bet," Beth nodded with a smile as she skipped around her room.

"—Evil. She's an evil Ice Queen."

Beth stopped dead in her tracks, "No she's not."

"No." Brittany sighed "She's not."

"You just don't like her." Beth sang.

"I don't." Brittany turned and leaned on the wall of the closet. Facing what was left of the clothes on hangers.

"Good luck getting into heaven!" Beth was skipping again.

"What?"

"Queens get you into heaven…and if you don't like one of them…well…just good luck Britt. I'll miss you."

"Beth those are angels…the good ones at least. And with a name like Santana…she's only two letters away from—"

"SAAANNNTAAAAAAAA!" The girl barreled into the dark closet and ran into Brittany with an embrace that knocked the wind straight out of the tall girl.

As she passed out she heard Quinn's voice in the distance,

"BRIT! PHONE FOR YOU! SOMEONE NAMED SA—"

She tried to fight the faint to catch the end of the name, but with no oxygen in her lungs it was a losing battle.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

**'Sup?**

**I thought maybe I'd try that one on for size...doesn't quite feel right. haha anyway, thank you for reading, and don't forget to let me know what you think. I tend to get excited by reviews and I'm not even being facetious here, but it really does inspire me to update more quickly when I get reviews...good or bad, knowing that people are reading is the ultimate incentive. So keep that in miiiiiind haha :) happy reading.**

**PaperRomance: Thank you :) I enjoy your reading. haha. Don't worry, I didn't know how many things you could do with the name Santana until I started playing around with it, so no, you weren't having a slow day...or maybe I'm just used to having those? :)**

**Luceroadorada: Thank YOU for reading :)**

**Leilamiranda: Hahaha yeah, Rachel's not so great at any of her crafts, but I love her too!**

**M206: Honestly, I liked chapter 2 way better too. My first chapter's are always a little less exciting, but that's because I like to leave a lot to the imagination. Thank you for sticking around for Chapter 2 :)**

Double Take

"…many times have I told you to control yourself, Honey?"

Brittany regained consciousness to a foggy vision of the green-eyed blonde looming over her.

"She barely escapes death once, but at the hands of my five year old-"

"Too soon ma! Too soon!" Beth interrupts.

Brittany groaned, starting sit up.

"Who was it?" She pants, rolling on to her side.

"Oh thank God." Beth and Quinn say in unison.

The little girl walks over and hugs Brittany's head into her chest,

"…I just love 'er so much!" she squeals. Since the tall girl is still seated on the floor, they're about the same height.

Brittany smiles and rubs the little girl's back, using the embrace to pick her up.  
The 3 blondes stand in silence for a moment. Suddenly Brittany repeats,

"Who was it?"  
Beth put her hands on the sides of Brittany's face and brought her in close.

"Ma," She said to Quinn, staring into Brittany's eyes . "I think I've really done it this time. She doesn't remember."  
Quinn just kind of squints at her.

"No," Brittany laughed setting the girl down. "I mean who was on the phone for me."  
The Fabrays exchange a quick look of relief and Quinn finally let out a casual,

"I don't know," and started cleaning the messy room. Beth caught on and began to help saying,  
"I'm not gonna say who made this mess...but I _will_ say it wasn't you...and it wasn't me...and it _was _the third person in this room." She squats down to get as many clothes as her little arms can carry at once.  
Quinn shakes her head disapprovingly at Brittany.

The taller blonde ignores it and insists, "You said it was someone named 'Sa—' on the phone, and then you stopped."

"Yeah Britt. I dropped the phone when Beth screamed. Sorry my heart bleeds for you jeeze. What's the big deal?"

Brittany shakes her head. "Nothing. No big deal."  
The two women continue their conversation as they walk out of Beth's now clean room.

"It was a low voice if that helps," Quinn says nonchalantly heading for the living room. Brittany's arm hairs rise.

"Does little miss Britt have a friiieeeend?" Quinn sings, throwing herself on the couch.

"Not even." Brittany scoffed, leaping into the love seat..

"Come on Britt!" Quinn whines. "The most gossip I get these days is what Robbie—sorry Bob—traded for Beth's lunch. Which, by the way, is mildly hurtful seeing as that's_ my_ homemade fluffernutter she's giving away. But whatever…."

"I used to tell you about school..." Brittany pouts.

"This is going to sound harsh…but your school stories were about as riveting as Beth's—"

"—Quinn!" Brittany says laughing.

"... This is like the first time since you've been here that you've got a shot at a social life."

"Too bad I hate my cast mates." Brittany crosses her legs and grabs the remote.

"Ooooh! Why?!"

"They're all kind of…I dunno…mean. Or something."

"What'd they do?"

"Tease me about my glasses and stuff."

Quinn rolled her eyes.  
"Jesus Britt. You're worse than Beth. Stop being a baby and make an effort for fuck's sake!"

"I have…" Brittany said uncertainly, "…I have made an effort."

"Oh?" Quinn crosses her arms. "How?"

"I uh…"

"Sat by yourself? Texted me?"

Brittany chews on her bottom lip.

Quinn smiled warmly, "You're just protecting yourself…that's ok. People in LA are fairly two-faced. That's why I fit in fantastically."

"So what do I do?" Brittany laughs.

"Well…I gotta be honest here…the Brittany I get to be roommates with is probably too good for these fucks just yet. Continue being cautious…but be more receptive—Oh! Call that person back!" Quinn pointed excitedly to the phone.

"…I don't have anyone's number…plus there're two names that start with 'SA' in my class…and they're the two I hate most."

"And why is that?"

"Well there's Sam. He teases me and reminds me of a frat boy version of Mike."

"Your brother?"

Brittany nods.

"Ugh horrible excuse. Next."

"…Then there's Santana…"

"She must be nice."

Brittany rolls her eyes and mumbles, "I guess I'm the only one in this house who thinks otherwise."

"I just assumed since you smiled—"

"I what?"

"Smiled….when you said her name. I figured—"

" It was probably one of those weird yawns…."

"The ones called smiles? Yeah probably."

" Quinn, Santana's the last person I'd smile about."

"What'd she do? Call you names?" Quinn mocked.

"She gave me a tour of the theater," Brittany started lowly.

"—Oh God, Britt!"

"—BUT! Wait! Wait! I just get these conceited vibes from her…makes me feel like I don't wanna be bothered."

"And all she's done is be friendly when everyone's been a bag of douche?"

Brittany sighed deeply, "I guess maybe I could give her a chance…and not judge a book by its cover."

" This must be one bad cover… she's pretty huh?"

Brittany looks away and Quinn assumes she's simply deep in thought.

"She's…just…got blackberry waves that go down to her shoulder blades, and she's always running her fingers through them…making like a perfect side part…Her skin's like…luminescent…like this beach sand or…golden pancakes…and her eyes are the syrup. Her lips—"

"Jesus. Are you sure you don't wanna eat her?"

Brittany's entire body went hot and her face flushed a deep crimson.

"Don't wanna wha?" she sputtered.

Quinn laughed, "…She just sounds like a beautiful breakfast to me."

"Oh. Ha…"Brittany clears her throat.

"Clearly she's gorgeous… maybe someone's a little jealous?"

"Jealous! Is that what this is?"

"That's what it sounds like. I mean you hate her for no reason. It's either that or…" Quinn trailed off and got up to grab a snack.

"Or what?" Brittany turned and followed her with her eyes.

"Let's just say the last time I described someone using food analogies, I had his baby."

Brittany furrowed her brows.

The other blonde chucked as she returned with a large bowl of popcorn.

"Don't worry 'bout it, babe. You got nothing to be jealous about. You're a hot bitch."

"Yeah…" Brittany reached for the snack still wondering what Quinn's previous comment was supposed to mean.

* * *

"Yeah I called."

Brittany's eyebrows rose, "Ok…why?"

"Wanted to know if you wanted to go over our scene."

"We're not really on the stage at the same—" _be nice Britt_. "Um..sure, I mean, I don't have time this week, but—"

"So this weekend? We'll grab a beer."

"I'll let you know."

Brittany smiled sadly at the boy. She wondered why she had an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

But it passed.  
There was too much to do. They were finally rehearsing. They had to figure out blocking, how to transition between scenes, and mostly how to keep the noise level down when they were all crammed backstage.  
It became obvious that latter would be most difficult. Probably because there were so many stored costumes and props back there…And, do you know how many props are actually just toys? There were wigs, babydolls, wheelchairs…everywhere. Brittany found a suitcase full of bee bee guns and everyone who wasn't on stage crowded around to take part in a fake gunfight. Ridley burst in and pretty much tore them all a new one. As soon as she left though, they broke out in raucous laughter. As the tears flowed down Brittany's face, she began to think that maybe these people weren't so bad after all.

Santana didn't really take part in the noisemaking, gunfights, or shenanigans. She sat on the couch talking quietly to the kid who brought his own wheelchair. People started to gather around that area when the excitement of the new space waned. Brittany approached as she realized her scene was coming up. Sam stopped her and pointed to the fake guns sticking out of the waistband of her pants. She pulled them out and looked up to find Santana's eyes still transfixed on the spot where the guns had been. Brittany looked down and noticed that her shirt had flipped up in the disarming process. The skin near her hip lay exposed….and apparently it was fascinating. The blonde quickly pulled the shirt down. Santana's eyes flicker up to hers and they simultaneously come to the realization that the brunette isn't embarrassed.  
"Let's go!" Someone whispered harshly, waving the blonde towards the stage.

* * *

Rachel nodded knowingly, as she had seen Streisand do so many times before.

'Yeah." Brittany sighed happily. "I probably had the most fun backstage…I felt like myself again…it was…awesome."

"What's this old Brittany like?"

"Well…she's not such a know it all." The dancer blushes "…I was always smart…but in a different way…or maybe the same way as everyone else, but I didn't feel like I cared to show it all the time."

"Sounds smart to me."

"…But ever since I got sick…and I got here…I just felt like beating people to the punch might be easier, you know? Making them feel stupid before they could…you know…"  
"Brittany," Rachel was surprised by how sad that made her.

"Don't be upset. It's not like people bullied me or anything…they just…didn't really take me seriously…so I started thinking maybe if I did, they'd follow suit…."

"And…"

"And yeah. It worked…But now I'm like…so what, you know? People take me seriously…so what? I got out of the hospital thinking, life's too short to not take seriously…but now I'm thinking…maybe I was right all along. It's too short to take so seriously… to not do exactly what you want…all the time."

"That's why you dropped out of med school?"

"Well yeah…I'm not wasting my time anymore….but I'm still ...you know…figuring things out."

"Like what?"

Brittany went silent.  
Rachel smiled smugly "You don't even have to ask, my dear. I'll have my office bill you later."

"For what?"

"Obviously you want me as your manager and are too scared to ask…I read between the lines, Pierce. I get it."

"I'm glad one of us does."

* * *

After only a week of rehearsals, their first performance had been a success. Santana's play would go on twice more and she was ecstatic about opening night.

"Drinks on me!" She screamed as she led the way to the bar across the street. Brittany had been in the changing room and was surprised to come out and find everyone gone. Once she got outside though, she saw the last of them entering the bar.  
A sudden, "Hey!" Startled her.  
A rarely doe-eyed Santana was jogging past her. She's changed into this short, summery white dress that's both cute and sexy all at once. Brittany looks down at her own black t-shirt and worn jeans, then shrugs hoping there's no dress code at the bar.

"Where's everyone going?" Brittany yells after her.

"Forgot my purse!"

"Oh,"  
Before she ran into the theater, Santana stopped at the entrance and paused. "You should come…I'm buying." She said without turning, and walked briskly inside.  
Brittany opened her mouth to say something, but there was no one there…and there was really nothing to say…. _Fuck it_. The blonde thought running across the street.  
She was greeted by Sam who approached her with an Irish car bomb. What's not to love about dropping a shot in a beer? Not much she guessed, because seconds later Santana had returned and she was at it again with the entire cast. They circled a table, dropped the shot, watched it fizz, and chugged. Mercedes slammed her empty mug down first, then Finn, Santana, Artie, Sam, and Brittany. The rest of the cast respectfully declined a night of drinking before work the next day.  
Another car bomb and about 4 shots later, Artie had taken over the jukebox and everyone was begging Brittany to dance. Mercedes had seen her messing around on stage between sets at some point, and drunkards tend to love peer pressure; so everyone chanted, begged, and tickled her, but she continued sloppily shaking her head and giggling 'no'.  
"Fine." Santana said pissed off and stumbling away as she pointed to Artie, who smiled and played her song.  
Horns blast and the blonde's head snaps to the dance floor. There she finds Santana running her hands along her body and …glaring at her...…but look at how her dress plays along her thighs she dances. Brittany knows it's a challenge. But she can't bring herself to want to do anything about it. She tells herself it's because Santana's not worth it…but she knows it's because for the first time in her entire life, moving is the last thing she wants to do.

_I can't wait til I get you on the floor good lookin_

Santana's mouth is forming a smirk

_Goin out so hot just like you love it_

And it feels like all the alcohol hits Brittany at once. She thinks that must be why there's a certain surge of heat all over her skin.

_And ow! Burned myself I just had to touch it._

Santana's slowly approaching. And Brittany isn't sure why she can't stop thinking _finally_.

"It's ok to be intimidated," The brunette almost growls. Leaning an arm on the table to keep her balance.

"By what?" The blonde laughs.

"Um, my fucking amazing hips?! And how they couldn't tell a lie if they tried?!"

The laugh gets louder.

"Whatever, all I know is I'm up here and you're not." Santana turns to walk away.

_Stop_

Suddenly, she does what the song says, looking over her shoulder at the dancer.

_Lemme get a good look at._

The brunette is giving her the same look from their visit to the trap door.

_Oooh so thick, now I know why they call it a fatty_

But the blonde doesn't want to walk away this time. Really, the only reason she's still seated is that the room's starting to spin…still, she finds a way to get up…snaking behind the smaller girl, leaving no space between them, and mimicking her every move.

_Shit's so sick got a hit and picked up a habit_

_That's all right_

_Cuz you're all mine_

Everything she does, Brittany does it right behind her. Usually, this would come easily, but the scent of the brunette's shampoo is overpowering, and her skin feels as smooth as the candy it resembles…

In the distance, she can hear the cast mates starting to applaud drunkenly. Santana's looking over her shoulder again, her breath tickling the blonde's bottom lip,

"Holy shit you can dance." She pants.

Brittany simply spins her so that they're facing each other…only now that they're face to face does she allow a burgeoning smile to escape. And suddenly they're sharing it. This smile. The brunette is beaming and the blonde almost wants to laugh at how adorable it is.

"I thought you hate—" Suddenly Santana is spun away from her and into the crowd and her sentence remains unfinished. Brittany comes to the realization that the dance floor is now full…and probably has been for quite some time.

It wasn't until long after the end of the song that she'd found exactly who it was that took Santana earlier. The same person sitting with her at the bar. Buying her drinks. Making her laugh…. Brittany glares past Sam at the boy whose Mohawk she suddenly wanted to rip off.

"I do. I do hate you." She slurred interrupting Sam, who was in the middle of an impersonation medley.

"That was Dinero…"

"I hate her, I said." Brittany whispered in his ear as she glared at the scene behind him. "Take me home."

"You sure?" he said springing back quickly.

She nodded. As they passed Santana on the way out, Brittany didn't even throw her a glance.

But Santana did. In fact, she threw two as she did a double take and stared with concern at the blonde's back then drifted down to her hand holding Sam's until it disappeared into the night.

"Excuse me, Puck," she said, still looking in the direction where the blonde had been. Never looking at the boy; she simply closed her tab and left.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

**M206: Your caps scared the crap out of me. I literally read it as yelling haha. Apologies for the format error.**

**Luceroadorada: Thanks! :)**

**PaperRomance: Brittany is special. She can be smart and special...she's just a different kind of smart, but don't worry, her naivete still makes it's appearances. She's just adapted to her surroundings a bit.**

* * *

**Reflex**

If you were to ask Santana Lopez what in the hell she thought she was doing right now, I can guarantee she wouldn't be able to tell you.

Things she knows:

She's beyond drunk and

She has no idea why she's so concerned

And this 'drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts' phrase is swimming in her head.

Also, she's trying to act calm, but probably looks like a maniac as she speed walks for blocks, chasing—yes it's become a chase—the sweet valley high twins.

Until she loses them.

This one last thing she knows is eating away at her as she stands on a corner:

Sam rode his bike there. As in motorcycle. As in Jesus Christ Brittany's not holding on because…ew who wants to hold on to Maculey fucking Culkin. And he'll take the only helmet because …duh, he's Sam.

Santana's far too deep in thought to bother paying attention to where she's going, so when she sees Sam face down on a curb, she nearly steps on him by accident.

But no. She doubles back and realizes who he is and now she almost does it on purpose—Oh God! And Brittany?! Where's—

She crouches down and lifts the boy's head by his shaggy hair.

"WHERE'S BRITTANY?!" She yells into his eyes.

He grumbles. He's not dead…and as she inspects him, he doesn't even have the decency to be hurt.

Is this fucker asleep?

"Get off 'Tana" he whines curling into a ball. The street is empty, so he could technically spend the night and not be bothered. Though Santana would prefer that he be bothered.

"He's having a tantrum."

The brunette hears a voice behind her and whirls around, rising on her tippy toes to cup Brittany's face. Not stopping herself from kissing the blonde's forehead, temples, cheeks, jaw, chin, lips.

Then she paused.

Brittany had been watching Santana's lips to see where she'd go next. . The brunette didn't blink as she carefully an even more intentional and tender kiss on Brittany's lips, keeping mocha eyes on baby blue the entire time. _Soft, _was all Brittany could think. Mouths were closed the entire time, and the blonde really hadn't participated' she kind of just let it happen. Still, she had to physically stop herself from swooning as Santana pulled away.

"Jesus. "

"I thought you were thrown from his bike." The brunette blurted.

"You thought _he _ was thrown? 'Cause he looks more thrown than me."

"Uh, yeah…him…but when I didn't see you—"

"He's just mad 'cause I won't take a ride from him. So he's having a fit. But it's cool, I walked his motorcycle to a handicap spot so it'll get towed."

Santna's smile came easily. Brittany smirked with a shrug,

"Now no one gets hurt"

The smaller girl realized she was still gently cupping a freckled face and

"My heart's beating like it used to," Brittany sighed.

Santana dropped her hands searching Brittany's face for some kind of meaning to what just happened.

"How's that?" She folded her arms defensively.

"Alll over my body,"

The brunette looked to the ground and smiled. They sat on the curb by Sam's head.

"It's actually really dangerous," Brittany chuckled, turning away.

"Dangerous?"

"I pretty much died. When my heart used to do that."

"Died?"

" I had a bad reaction to some migraine medicine…fucked my nerves up pretty bad. So like…I couldn't keep myself warm…My heart would beat crazy for the littlest things…all over my body…it was…really scary. Like I was trapped in there. In my own self.….couldn't trust it to do the normal stuff I used to take for granted…_Jesus_."

"What?"

"I've like, never told anyone that. How scared I was."

"…Are you okay now?"

"I guess…it's been like a year…but it took a long time to get back to this."

"I'm sorry I kissed you." Santana mumbled.

"Whatever. You're just drunk. And young."

"Excuse me, how old are you?" Santana folded her arms playfully.

"22"

"Oh."

"You're 19 right?"

"So?" Santana shrugged.

"Yeah don't you guys like makeout with everything?"

"Not _that_," Santana pointed to Sam.

"You make out with Mohawks."

Brittany, didn't like how that sounded. She got up and looked at the still seated Brunette, who was suddenly distracted by her dress. Her head was down , dangling between her silky shoulders as she started playing with the hem . Her hair, at some point in the night had been swept up into a very high, very messy bun. Curls came down into her eyes. Somehow she was only a princess now. Not a queen. And Brittany's heart dipped at the sight. It wasn't so scary. _This girl's going to kill me_ She thought. Suddenly, she remembered herself and abruptly started walking away.

"Hey! Wait!" Santana sprung up beside her."Why do you always do that? Why do you walk away like that?"

"I already told you."

"No,"

"I said you're dangerous."

"How? God slow down."

Santana stopped walking as Brittany left her behind.

* * *

"You have a kid?!"

"Yes."

"Oh that's right. You're like 30."

"Actually, I was younger than you when she was born."

"Right. Like you were ever my age."

"San. You're either gonna come with me to pick her up, o you're going to lean over my car window bitching about it and make me late."

"Give me a reason to not pick bitching. 'Cause honestly, I'm having a ball."

"Please Babe. I want you to meet her."

Immediately Santana feels a pang of guilt. It happens every time he calls her that…or anything like it. She wants to scream that she's not his babe. Or his sweetheart. But they both know he's well aware. He knows what he is to her, but it doesn't change what she is to him.

"Aren't you kinda meeting her too?"

"No…well. I met her when she was born."

"Then?"

Puck shrugs. "Don't make me say it."

"What makes a deadbeat dad suddenly decide 5 years later that this exact moment to when you just have to be a part of your daughter's life? AND mention her for the first time to me?"

"It actually has a lot to do with you….and the fact that you're probably not always going to be around….so the day you leave me…I'd like to have some kinda…family to lean on…" Puck pulls back his shoulders, "Satisfied? Now get in the car! You're stopping traffic!"

"Always do Puckerman, always do."

They were silent for a while. Noah had been looking at her intermittently then grinning like an idiot at the road.

"WHAT?!" Santana finally exploded.

"I can't believe you came."

"I know it's weird…I never do with you."

She smiles slyly as he rolls his eyes. "Why are you so surprised? I can be nice—nope. No I can't. In fact, do me a favor and introduce me as like, Naya or something. I don't want any kind of real attachment goin' on here."

"Surprise surprise,"

"Whatever...You're the dummy who loves me anyway."

"You can walk away too, Lopez." Puck laughs defensively.

"Let's face it Puck. You're my best friend…and an easy lay. Though not a very good one."

"Of course not. Now that you've lost interest in the D."

"Puck!"

"Santana you're gay." He says nonchalantly

"Not every girl who doesn't want you is gay."

"What about girls who leave free drinks to chase after some blonde?"

"Right. It was the boy I was after. The blonde _boy_." _Not a complete lie. She did want to find him first so she could kick his ass._

"Right. That's why you were dancing…_that way_ with her."

As the memory crossed Santana's mind, she crossed her legs and leaned forward in her seat slowly.

"Just try not to ruin my seat." Noah said side-eyeing her with a smile.

Santana rolled her eyes.

"Oh I know exactly what you're doing." He continued, " I used to turn you on like that."

_Not half as much as just the thought of her does. _ The brunette thought. Then she widened her eyes at how effortlessly that reflection had come to her.

"But what am I saying…you couldn't handle that shit. Being with a woman…you just want her to like you because it's all just a game to you. And that's how you win."

"The fuck do you know, Puck?  
"I know I'm the only one who survived your wrath and can talk to you this way with my jaw still intact."

"So what in the hell do you mean when you say I can' handle it?"

Puck shook his head as he turned the wheel,"This is going to sound vulgar. Like really really vulgar…but…it's like this: you've had someone inside you…but _you've _never… been inside someone other than yourself."

" If I didn't know you were talking about pussy—fingering in particular—that revelation would actually be pretty deep."

"Mmm yes. Deep." Puck wiggles his brows.

"Ew Noah…so …elaborate…why can't I handle it?"

"No offense, but that would take something called selflessness…and a heart. And frankly I don't think you have one. You've never done _anything_ for anyone that won't benefit you at the same time or before."

"Let me ask you something, asshole…have I ever cared if you were hurt?"

"Physically or emotionally?"

"Either."

"Oh. Then no. It was gonna be no either way…but yeah. No."

Santana simply nodded…God this was terrifying. Finding out that she was this completely different person around someone she'd just met. It was like melting into some kind of human version of herself…but involuntarily.

"I'll tell you what didn't hurt…watching you two dance. You two were fuckin' sexy together. I mean I'm.._really_ sorry I had to interrupt …too many creeps leering…but if you'd like to show me something like that in private…"

"Interrupt?! There was nothing to interrupt."

"San…" Puck simply nodded.

Santana bit her lip and crossed her legs even more tightly. " No…" She exhaled shakily, "Not true…the girl hates me even more after that night."

"And I bet it turns you on to no end…I take it back. You're not gay, just an attention wh—"

"Watch it."

"All I'm saying is, I've seen you go to great lengths to seduce those who don't want you. Then when they fall in love" He gives her a pointed look, "Which they _always_ do. You're done."

Santana shrugs. She'll pretend to be mad because usually, yes that's true. She'll also pretend that that's the case with Brittany. Because that's the only way she can wrap her head around it.

* * *

Brittany left out a lot.

Quinn was sitting in on this session and she was glad because she needed to know whether or not to go through with this; Rachel wasn't always the most…uh…_helpful_ guide. But, neither of them needed to know how last night's show went. How it was the last performance of Santana's play and she happened to be backstage when Brittany offered to take free headshots for Mercedes…she was just getting into how she minored in photography when Santana chimed in with a whisper.

"What?" Brittany leaned closer in the already tight space. Her elbow was bent ever slow slightly, in the way we do when we're trying really hard to hear someone in our own ear. Santana's hand reacted by going to cup the blonde's elbow, but she stopped herself. _Why was reaching out for her a natural reflex? _

"Do me too." The brunette finally whispered.

Brittany pulled away and they locked eyes. But Santana had the sweetest closed mouth smile hanging on her face. The look she was giving undoubtedly understood the innuendo, but her lips remained innocent.

" 'Kay," Brittany gulped, looking back to the stage for her cue.

And what about earlier? When she'd seen the brunette watching her put her eyeliner before the show. She'd told her she could see her. And Santana said only, "I know," eye-fucking her through the reflection, to which the dancer had dropped her make-up, like some kind of bumbling kid.

These things Brittany omitted…and she wished she wouldn't have…because now her therapist and her roommate saw no reason for her _not_ to oblige the younger girl.


	5. Chapter 5

**Smack**

* * *

Beth is nervous.

The two coolest people in her life are about to meet…and she wants to freaking have a cow. They say not to. But she's gonna. She wants to jump up and down and scream, then squeeze herself real tight because it's that kind of roller coaster of emotions. She calms herself down by trying to convince Brittany that her dad is actually pretty awesome, and that yes, after just one meeting she can tell. How? Well…he wouldn't have a girlfriend like that if—

"Girlfriend!? His first time meeting you and he brought some nasty little—"

"Hey! She's not nasty… Or little actually. She's cool and big and I like her."

Brittany lifts her brows.

"And yes. At first I was like what the" Beth leans down to whisper, "heck", Then raises her voice again, "about this random girl. But then…I don't know. It kind of helped having her around. I could ask him whatever I wanted because she wasn't very nice to him, but she was super cool with me. So whenever my questions made him feel bad, she would smile and tell me to not be shy…. Because if I didn't ask, I'd never know."

Brittany nodded. She knew Beth had always wondered about her father, even though she didn't mention him much. But when she did, her questions about him were so detailed, that she clearly had them brewing for a while.

"…It's pretty selfish."

Beth shrugged. "Whatever. I asked him to bring her again this time."

"Beth."

"She's cooler than him! You'll see."

"What does he look like? Do you look like him?"

"No…. I'm pretty."

Brittany nodded. "Your mother never did have very good taste."

"You never met him?'

"Well your mom wasn't sure—she never said who exactly—no. Uh…no. Probably not."

"Just a few more minutes!" Beth rubbed her tiny palms together with excitement.

They were sitting cross-legged with their backs to the front door of the apartment, sharing the bowl of trail mix between them. Neither of them knew where Quinn was, all they knew was that she was gone when they woke up…and that she knew Beth's father would be in her house again…with his girlfriend…and that this time her roommate would be around.

Brittany made a mental note to compliment her friend's parenting skills again. But before she could, the loud knock at the door made the both jump.

"Who?!" Beth basically screamed.

"Papa Puck; the sequel." Said an audibly nervous man.

Both Beth and Brittany rolled their eyes. One with an embarrassed smile; the other not amused.

Beth swung the door open before Brittany could get behind her fast enough.

"Baby, I'll be right back, I ran into your mom downstairs, and we have a few things to talk over, ok?"

Brittany shook her head as she looked him over. Deciding he wasn't worth her time, but vaguely recognizing something about his haircut, she bent down to pick up the trail mix that had been knocked over in the process of opening the door.

"What kind of talk?"

"The kind where we try to forgive daddy's mistakes."

Blue eyes rolled again, a pair in the direction of spilled trail mix, a pair in the direction of darting green eyes.

"I know," Puck said shaking his head. "I probably shouldn't call myself daddy, huh?"

"No. It's weird. I like Noah. It's pretty. Like a lady."

"What about Puck?" Puck laughed.

"I think we both know how silly that sounds on a grown man." Beth shrugged.

"You're right, Honey. Hey, look I brought San—Naya, Does that make up for it?"

"Where is she?!" Beth screamed excitedly.

"On her way up, I gotta go babe, your mom's gonna change her mind," Puck swooped in for a quick kiss on the girls mussed hair. "I promise I'm doing this for us, 'K?"

Once again Beth shrugged. Puck responded with a sad smile and turned quickly to run down stairs.

Beth stood at the open door way and began to explain to Brittany what her parents were probably talking about, as the older blond threw the mess of trail mix into the garbage. Her back was to the girl, but she nodded along to let her know she was listening.

"Because I heard her saying the other day, when she thought I was asleep, that she wasn't sure about him….about this whole arrangement, you know? Him coming back. Then she started playing with my sleep-hair and telling me how she was going to protect me…"

"From him?" Brittany said over her shoulder.

"FROM MEEEEE," Came playful growl at the door. All Brittany heard next was the door slam so hard that its bell jingled, and an endless giggle from the little girl.

The blonde turned with a smile knowing it had to be—

"SANTANA?!"

"No this is—"

"Brittany?"

"How do you—Wait a minute!" Beth pushed herself away from Santana, forcing the Brunette to stop holding her. Apparently she had scooped her up at the door.

The little girl placed herself between them.

"And just what in the" She lowered her voice "Heck" and raised it again "Is the meaning of all this? You first…Naya…"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Santana crossed her arms, still glaring at Brittany.

Beth did the same, but aimed her glare at the brown-eyed girl until she could no longer avoid it.

"Fine!" Santana threw up her hands. "Yes, fine! My name's not Naya ok?"

Beth threw herself on the couch and pouted. "I thought." Was all she could get out. Her scowl was too deep for any other words to escape. It was like her entire body was frowning.

Santana chewed the inside of her cheek and blinked to break the staring contest she'd been hold with Brittany. Dropping her head and walking slowly to the couch, she knelt in front of Beth.

"We _are_ friends." She whispered, looking at the girl's tiny hand and tentatively taking it in hers.

"You lied," Beth shook her head, more angry than sad.

Santana pet the girl's hand and looked at it while she said, "I did. Listen up, Shirley Temple " She paused for a gulp and a quick look to Brittany, "I've got…a lot of people who don't like me for very good reasons…Let's face it…I'm not the nicest human being. _But_ I've also got some people who like me for no good reason…you'd be surprised how many people choose to hate me before they get to know me."

"Why?" Beth giggled as Santana started tickling her hand.

"Well, they're scared" Santana smiled widely at the little girl's laugh. "Just like I was of you… You know I made your dad promise to call me that…to call me Naya… before we got here because I had a feeling about you."

Beth jutted her chin into her neck.

"I hate to say it, but I knew that if you were anything like your dad, I'd think you were cool as sh—um cool as fu—cool. Just cool."

Santana basically whispered her honesty.

"I like you a whole whole lot. Tell you that much." Beth closed her eyes and smiled happily. "It's ok Santana. I forgive your lie-that- makes-no-sense-to-me-because-I-think-making-friends-is-great-and-I-wish-I-had-more-so-I-don't-get-why-you'd-ever-want-less."

"Thanks," Santana gave her most sincere half smile, then gently tucked the girl's braid behind her ear. "Alright, Polly Pocket, What's the plan? And who the hell is this?"

Santana pointed playfully to Brittany with her thumb.

"That's Brittany. From your acting class…unless you're not the Santana she thinks you are…"

"Nope. That's the one." Brittany sighed from across the room.

"Be nice, Poophead." Beth said as she left the room.

The older women said nothing to each other for the entire 15 minutes the girl was gone. 15 minutes of staring; Santana with a welcoming curiosity and Brittany with a defensive glare. Neither knew what to ask or how to start. Jaws were clenched and eyes sometimes had to dart around the room before resuming the contest.

"Oook! Not a-one word huh? I took extra long and listened extra careful and nothin. So I guess we just play and you guys talk to me and try not to be all weird."

The little girl returned, slamming a deck of cards on the coffee table.

"HA! Ok. Again?" Santana cackled shuffling the deck immediately.

"Britt, come watch Santana shuffle."

The blonde had been staying on her side of the room, even during the staring contest, outside of that she had been busying herself in the kitchen…really just rinsing her hands and making a lot of noise. She furrowed her brow, but think of a reason not to join, so she turned slowly and prepared herself to adjust to the vision of Santana in her living room again.

And there she was, hair in a loose ponytail. The end dancing on the back of her neck and a few lovely wisps of hair were in here lashes again. She wore a loose grey sweatshirt on and some very tight white jeans. She looked…so fucking good. Brittany folded her arms as she walked over. Santana looked up and smirked at her, looking the blond over as she continued to shuffle. The dancer was still in her pyjamas, loose shorts and a big blue shirt. Her hair was in a messy bun and her finger tips reached up to adjust her glasses self-consciously.

"You look like an artist," Santana said looking back at the cards. She looked up again quickly to find Brittany fighting a smile as she plopped on the couch next to Beth.

"No, she's a dancer." Beth said, still fascinated by the shuffling.

"_Really_?" Santana drew out the word as she finally began to deal, looking from the little girl to the taller one.

"Yep," the little girl nodded, watching as her two cards were slid her way.

"That's a kind of artist too you know," Santana said looking into Brittany's face.

Brittany looked down and shrugged.

"Wait a minute," The older blonde suddenly said. "What are we playing?"

"Twenty one, do you know it?" Beth leaned back and brought her face up close to her.

"BLACK JACK SANTANA?!" Brittany whispered almost comically "You taught her how to play black jack!?"

Santana shrugged, "I'm reinforcing her probability skill set."

"She's five."

"Fine. Five… What's that? First grade? Would you say you're now adding at a third grade level, Beth?"

"I would." The little girl nodded to Brittany "I would."

The blonde shook her head, fighting another smile.

They never stood a chance. Beth had the kind of luck that could only be the product of her two parents' hard knock lives cancelling each other out in to a lovely serendipity. She would whimsically yell "Hit meh!" and start shimmying with closed eyes and a smile. This was her lucky dance. Clearly…because each and every round, she would win. Soon Santana started to practice the dance and the blondes couldn't contain their laughter. As funny as it looked on Beth, the brunette brought it to a new level. She had gotten comfortable and the way she showed it had Brittany in stitches. Beth stopped laughing long before the older blonde, but Santana would just keep adding ridiculous moves on to the dance until she and the older blonde had tears dribbling down their chins.

Soon the joke was lost on Beth, and she only smiled along, gently wondering how adults could be sillier than kids... until the sound of laughter lulled her into a nap. The girls didn't notice until the sound of deep breathing echoed around the room. Of course they started laughing again when they saw the little girl was fast asleep.

Santana picked her up and put her in bed; Spending a while at her side petting her head and whispering goodnights.

"You don't have to do that you know, she was already asleep." Brittany said kindly, taking the same stride as the brunette from the doorway.

Santana shrugged. "She hears it. She can feel it."

Brittany smiled.

"Kids are like plants, Britt. You think they can't hear you, but they totally can."

"I owe you an—"

"I'd say you sure as hell do!" Santana cut her off, flailing her arms and throwing herself on the couch.

The dancer couldn't finish her sentence because she was giggling too hard.

"Sorry. Sorry. Go ahead, finish. I wanna hear this."

"I," Brittany chuckled. "I owe you an apology. I'm sorry… I've been such a bitch to you—"

"And no one else."

"And no one else…."

Their eyes suddenly locked. "But you know why" Brittany said lowly.

Santana shook her head slowly with a smirk, not breaking the stare.

Heat rose into Brittany's cheeks. But it vanished as soon as the door was once again swung open…like mother like daughter.

"Alright, Conchita, get the hell out. Time's up." Quinn yelled.

"Shut up! Beth's asleep!" Brittany ran to the door, stopping it from slamming.

Puck walked in behind the green-eyed blonde with glassy eyes.

"Come on, Sa—Nay—"

"Santana," Brittany corrected the boy and smiled at the brunette, who in turn returned the smile as she walked to Puck.

"Say goodbye to your new friends," Puck started crying. "You'll never see them again." He turned and walked out.

"Wait, What?!" Santana looked to Quinn.

"Got something to say?" Quinn stepped into Santana's personal space.

Santana raised her brows. "Don't start Blondie. I can assure you that you do not want a piece of this."

"SAN!" Puck said from the hallway, his voice cracked as he wept.

"Fine!" She yelled over her shoulder. Then looked to Quinn. "That little girl is the best thing in his world. Don't take away his chance to be good to her because you're too much of an idiot—"

A smack landed on Santana's cheekbone and made her loose her footing a bit.

Brittany immediately took the brunette by the crook of her arm and led her out quickly shutting the door behind them.

She didn't stop holding her all the way down the stairs. They Passed puck and she simply waved him away. She dragged the smaller girl along for blocks until they found a bench inside a hidden cul de sac.

"Sit." Brittany basically threw the brunette on to the bench.

Santana crashed her face into her palms, breathing heavily. She said something into her hands, but it was muffled.

"What?" Brittany said, still standing over her.

"I just said that I thought _my_ mom was bad."

"Yeah Quinn's pretty much the worst…but she's my friend, so only I can say that."

Santana looked up from behind her hands. Brittany was standing so close. She could smell her. It wouldn't take much to pull her in. The blonde looked down at the deep brown eyes looking up at her, pleading somehow. She reached down and finally brushed the hair out of those long, dark lashes. The sudden warmth of a pair of hands on the back of her thighs caused her to take a sharp intake of breath.

"Come here," Santana whispered, pulling the girl onto her lap. Brittany couldn't stop her knees from giving out and straddling the girl over her seat.

Instead of hunching, she put her full weight on the brunette's lap so that they were face to face.

"Are you calm now?" Brittany ran her hands through raven locks and played with the loose ponytail she'd been eyeing all day. Their eyes had yet to unlock.

Santana shook her head slowly with her a smirk and said, "Yes."

"Well which one is it?" Brittany's breath ghosted on plump lips.

"Both. I shake my head no. But my mouth says yes."

Brittany's gaze had now drifted to that very mouth.

"What did you mean when you said that I knew why you were being mean to me?"

Brittany licked her lips slowly. "You do," She said bringing her eyes back up to coffee brown that now looked black as the new night sky around them.

"Tell me," Santana inched closer, her hands still on Brittany's thighs, squeezing.

A moan escaped the blonde and she bit her lip. Santana's eyes flared at the sight.

"_Fuck_." She said licking her own lips. " …tell me."

Brittany's hands trailed back to Santana's jaw from playing with her hair. Turquoise eyes flickered along a hazelnut face, wanting to see everything at once.

"I meant."

As her lips opened and closed, they were now close enough to brush against Santana's…whose eyes rolled back at the sensation.

"That"

she nipped on a supple bottom lip.

"You know."

She swooped down to lick a jawline

" How much I've always wanted you."

She kissed where she'd just licked.

"_Now_" Santana exhaled then caught her breath.

"Now you know?" Brittany kissed up to the space right under the brunette's earlobe.

"Uh," Her voice cracked. "I'm getting an idea." and her eyes flew open.

She grabbed the blonde's face and sucked both her lips into her mouth, letting them go with a pop. Brittany suddenly wanted to eat Santana whole. After every smack of their lips, she'd back up and look in her eyes then go in for more. Adding warm tongues. Soft bites. Low moans, pants, and impatient grinds.

"SAN?!"

No one paused.

"I saw you come this way! SAN?!" Puck's voice was so far away that Santana thought it was a dream.

And for all she knew it could have been, because when Santana opened her eyes the blonde was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

**So confusion huh? Ok: Brittany used to have Migraines and the medicine she was given gave her some nerve damage that makes her heart race and stuff. **

**In chapter 4, Santana mentioned quickly that she wanted Puck to call her Naya in front of Beth (before they'd met her) in order to avoid any type of emotional attachment. Last chapter (Chapter 5), Santana is revealed to be Puck's girlfriend, which Brittany didn't know because she'd never met his girlfriend or him, she'd only heard of them. Beth is upset that she was lied to by Santana. Santana apologizes. The two girls babysit Beth and they all play games. Quinn comes home upset from a discussion with Puck, so upset that she decides he can no longer see his daughter. This infuriates Santana and so she confronts Quinn. Quinn nearly retaliates with a smack. Brittany breaks it up, brings Santana to the park alone so she can cool down.**

…**and well…cool down they do not.**

**Clear? K. Here's Chapter 6**

Assignment

And as Rachel walked briskly, she couldn't help thinking of how inappropriate it was for Theater West to ask her to perform. She hadn't listened to their voicemail, but a missed call from them could only mean one thing. The small brunette was merely making an appearance to let them know that her vulnerability over Brittany going missing was nothing to take advantage of…but that she might be willing to replace her in a few shows for a slight increase in pay.

…knowing full well that no one else was actually getting paid…but then again…no one else was Rachel Berry, now were they?

But no. That wasn't it at all.

She was stopped abruptly when she began this very diatribe.

"Oh _that_ Rachel."

"Yes," she said busily, "_The _Rachel Berry. We've already established this. Now, as I was—"

"Just hold on. Hold on a minute." The read-headed attendant slowed his spazz as he said this…his features suddenly soft with concern as he scurried away.

Rachel rolled her eyes. She really didn't have time for autographs…but the look on his face made her think that maybe this fan needed saving. Not that she was Jesus or anything…

He came back with a woman she recognized as Ridley.

"Rachel." The woman sighed with a notebook tucked under her arm.

Rachel's brow furrowed and her head cocked back.

"This," Ridley cleared her throat holding out the notebook…_and were her eyes…glassy? Is this crying?!_ "We found this in the trap door tunnel under the stage."

"Okay…" Rachel took the book as it was placed in her hands.

"We clean that tunnel every single night…people have been known to be forgotten there…"

Rachel nodded her head knowingly.

"…It's Brittany's, Rachel. I uh, I didn't know who else to give it to. I know she's been gone about month …and since there's the issue with the little girl disappearing at the same time…I just don't want any trouble…so I didn't call the cops. But. I figured since she was your patient…you might know what to do."

"…Did you…Read it?"

"No. But…I'm sure it's her writing assignment for our class. It was due today."

"What?"

"The assignment was write about this life… right now."  
"This life? Is there another one I'm not aware of?"

"Rachel…the point is she's alive! The only way she could have left it there is if she snuck in and out between last night's show and tonight's."

It hits Rachel like 10 tons of bricks and every runaway train in the world: She has some kind of accountability to someone else. All of a sudden…being a therapist isn't just a sneaky way of gossiping. Ridley's looking at her like she's depending on her for answers…like she'd pretty much assumed Brittany was dead all this time. Rachel somehow had never come to that conclusion, but now she realized how many other people must've.

She smiled half-hearteldy and lifted the notebook. It was meant to be reassuring…but really she just looked awkward.

All the way home she tried to think of why she'd always known Brittany wasn't dead.

She opened her apartment door and finally understood: Quinn.

She knew what Quinn had done. She knew _why_ Brittany would disappear.

And might MIGHT …(a very big might because there was jail time at stake here) bring Beth along.

Once again…it was kind of all Rachel's fault. She'd showered, changed, and settled down; opening the notebook…to find she wasn't the only one who thought so.

_Rachel told. _

_Quinn's been a little…UM…fucking nuts ever since she almost hit Santana… well..since they almost hit each other._

_And I've been ok. I mean, I manage not to bring up how I kissed those supple lips and they kissed mine. Felt those lovely hands…and ran away from it all like a maniac in the park. You know it's hard enough to sprint without your underwear sticking to you. Or with all these stars in your eyes because what you just did was like…a midnight dream. I have no idea how I made it home, honestly._

_But none of that's come up. Because Quinn's was throwing pots and pans when I got back. Beth had no idea it wasn't for her enjoyment and was free-style rapping to the beat. So I told Beth to go to bed, then I held Quinn as she shook…and sobbed… and shook._

"_I just hate him so much. I don't care if Beth wants to know him. She shouldn't. __**I**__ know him."_

"_You __**knew**__ him." I whispered "Maybe he's changed."_

_Quinn let go so quickly. When she pulled back she gave me a look like she was literally going to kill me. "Don't fucking do that." She growled "If I want them apart…they will be."_

"_Quinn? Bu… Why?"_

_She shrugged. And turned away, "Because I can. And I swear to God if I ever see that Puerto Rican again I will rip her fucking heart out."_

"_I think she's Dominican," I whispered._

_That's when I realized …Minus the tentacles and the purple skin...you know, this was her. From my nightmares_

_and the little mermaid. Ursula. Quinn was Ursula…or just the same exact fucking evil. _

_But whatever. I had bigger Fish to…oh. Ha. _

_You see, Santana was making me miserable. I hated the way I wanted her _so fucking bad_. I didn't want to see her again. But ignoring her was eating me alive. _Fuck me.

_It took weeks for her to finally saunter up to me. Mmmm and saunter she did. _

_It was the day our class (finally) took workshop to the park, and_

_we were doing a group exercise…so I know there had to be a third person in between us creating our semi circle, … but with San cutting across I couldn't tell Mercedes from Artie. There was only her. Those legs…exposed… The feeling of her hand twirling the ends of my hair. _

_The three of us had been discussing how long it had gotten…I think…it's hard to remember what happens before your heart starts racing.  
"Do you think I should cut it?" I said, with my eyes glued to hers...not because I'm really gonna, but because I can't think of anything else to say. Not with her this close….trying to __**keep**__ her this close._

_The third person shook their head...thinking they still existed in our world  
"No," Santana says, almost hurt "I think it's beautiful," And suddenly we were just standing in this moment...it was thick with something…more intense than if we had actually taken our clothes off and started fucking right there. It was this look that neither of us tried to hide. That this third person must've witnessed. It was like Santana knew what she did to me…and she liked it because I let her. It was the fact that neither of us looked away. It was obscene.  
_

_Ridley yelled something to the class and our heads snapped in her direction…. Santana's hand stayed where it was, and our mouths dropped a little. Like we'd forgotten where we were, but still didn't want to be interrupted._

_She catches me mid-swoon when I decide to walk home from the park after class, so I don't feel her run up beside me._

_Good. I had a few things to tell her._

"_And just what the fuck was that about huh?" She said before I could get the words out._

"_Wait a minute." I stopped walking. "That's my line… I didn't do anything."_

"_Uh…you didn't kiss me? You didn't fucking…tell me you wanted me?"_

_I shook my head. _ Fuck. I'd said all that…done all that.

"_I didn't mean it Santana. Your looking at me in these ways that…confuse me… I'm not gay. "_

_Santana looks away. "Well me neither."_

"_Okay so whatever. We were drunk."_

"_Not in the park." Santana whispered, folding her arms._

" _I was…trying to comfort you. I felt bad. And how could you resist—" We caught each other's eyes and held back smirks. But neither of us wanted to laugh._

"_Ugh, Whatever Britt. I'm sorry if my "looks" confuse you."_

"_I feel like you're being sarcastic."_

"_Of course I am. I'm not looking at you any differently than I look at anyone else."_

"_You don't look at me like you want to fuck me?"_

"_EW no! fucking…ew. We kissed a few times…. So what."_

"_Ok. Whatever. Don't play with my hair then."_

"_I won't. Don't fucking kiss me."_

"_Don't grab my ass."_

"_Don't sit on my lap—Jesus Brittany! You said it yourself! I'm 22 and I'm a sexual being! What's your excuse?"_

"…_I don't know…I guess it's…"_

"_Holy shit…are you about to say 'it's been a while?' Is that what you're—"_

"_Shut up." I start laughing._

"_But yes, right? Yes, that's what you were going to say?"_

"_Yes Santana it's been a while since anyone's been inside me. Happy?"_

_She stops laughing and freezes…her mouth's a little bit open and I notice her lips are suddenly glistening...liked she'd just licked them. I smirk,_

"_God... You_ are_ sexual... Does being inside me turn you on?" I say it slow and realize I'm flirting…_

"_N—No…just the term. That's all. I wasn't—wasn't expecting you to say—"_

"_This is me. " I have to cut her off because I have no control over what I'll say next. _

_We're standing in front of the apartment building and I'm looking at her like she should keep walking, but she crosses her arms and bulges her eyes out._

"_Well hurry up. I'm gonna go up and see the kid,if that's alright with you."_

"_Uh, probably not with Quinn…she's not a huge fan of yours…thinks you're Puerto Rican…"_

"_Well…I'll just explain that I'm not." She says pushing past me as I open the door. But then she waits and lets me lead the way upstairs. And I fucking hate myself for hoping she's looking at my ass. As we get to the front door I pause and for some reason I sigh and take a moment to look her up and down. I can't believe how much this reminds me of the end of a date. How much I wish it were. And if the apartment were empty I'd invite her in, just to look at her—wait. Fucking…what? I'm not g-_

_Before I could get the thought through my head or my key in the door, it swings open._

_And luckily my reflexes are like a cat because I duck just in time to dodge packed luggage flying at my face._

"_Quinn!"_

_My roommate stares at me. It was a long, livid glare. She doesn't see the brunette standing just outside the door frame._

"_Rachel told me what you said about Santana's tits." She hisses._

_Suddenly my heart's racing. I wasn't ready…this wasn't—_


	7. Chapter 7

Rachel slams the book shut. She's clasps her eyes together knowing these next few pages are going to be a disaster. Or maybe just…not things she should be reading…but Brittany wrote this for other people to read…right? _Exactly_…Rachel thought as she opened the book again…_other people…not me._ She sighed and maintained that she was doing her job. For real this time. This really was for Brittany's own good.

_It was one of those moments where you have to close your eyes and pretend it's not happening. The embarrassment's that bad. I have to shake my head hard and pretend it never happened. I don't want Santana to be smiling when I open my eyes. I don't want her to be awkward. I don't want her to be looking at me._

_And she's not._

_She's not even there._

_It's been a while since Quinn slammed the door in my face. Maybe like 15 minutes. And after she said the whole…tits…thing…I just shut my eyes and wanted it to be over… she probably said more…but I just needed everyone to go away…and…I guess my wish came true. Because they did._

_I grabbed my luggage…clearly this wasn't everything I owned, but whatever…and headed out. _

_There was only one place to go. _

_I've been to Rachel's house once. And it was with Quinn for a Grey's Anatomy marathon a few weeks ago...that was actually when they decided that Rachel should be my therapist. Now that she was…well my therapist…I had to be less casual and much more careful. She didn't say a word when she opened the door…just led me to the couch and said,_

"_You don't call?"_

_I opened my eyes wide, "I don't have your number…"_

"_Quinn does."_

"_I'm not…listen I just need to keep a few of my things here."_

"_Brittany?!" She throws her hands in the air._

"_I'm not going to stay or anything…I just…we're remodeling…my…dresser…and we don't have a lot of space right now."_

"_That doesn't make any sense."_

"_Please Rachel!"_

"_Alright fine. Whatever."_

_I start to fidget. She's looking at me with this weird grimace._

"_I hope you're not trying to get out of it." She finally hisses._

"_Of what?"_

"_You still haven't taken her headshots. You asked me and Quinn whether or not you should go through with it…we said yes, weeks…WEEKS ago Brittany. You took Mercedes' now it's time for Santana's."_

"_Why are you—"_

"_Because Brittany, there's something about this girl you're avoiding and you need to just confront it. And don't think you're not going to your show tonight either. It's opening night of your play."_

_Shit. I'm thinking…like, SHIT. I can't do any of this right now…But Rachel's going to show up. Rachel's going to make sure I leave with Santana…And Rachel is looking at me and nodding right now because she knows my every thought._

"_Ugh, __**fine**__." I get up and leave, slamming the door behind me. It's not like, an annoyed "fine", it's like I want to cry my eyes out. It's like…I'm homeless, I have to pretend to be normal, and Santana knows I've said something about her tits…and that I call them tits—fuck. Why does that bother me most?_

_I find my way to the theater…just in time…but we're missing—_

"_Your son. The guy who plays your son!" Finn's screaming at me._

"_Alright Hagrid, you play him then." Santana appears from nowhere with her signature crossed arms…Jesus she looks amazing in red._

"_No! I can't memorize another role that quickly! Britt! Think of something!" Finn yelps._

"_Ugh what a goon." Santana rolls her eyes at him._

"_You're the one resorting to Harry Potter references." He mumbles, but leaves quickly thereafter …he knows better._

_So I go to the changing room…close the curtain, sit on the stool…and fucking..weep._

_It feels amazing. It's been the kind of day where I'm crying so hard I start to sweat, and my hair is sticking to my forehead. I hear rings scrape across the metal curtain rod then clang into each other. Someone's entered…I can smell her delicious fruity baby powder sent from here. But I don't look up._

"_Lord…I'll do it ok. Stop your crying…" She waits until I look up before she bolts out._

_I cry a little bit longer then wipe my eyes. Give a big sigh and…smile. I'm not sure why this made __**everything**__ ok…but it did. It really did…in fact the play even started off phenomenally, standing ovations after every scene. And I'm sure you think the play even ended well…Actually I know you think that because afterwards you told me so…but I have to say… The scene, where my character dies…and me and my step-son are on stage—well my step-daughter, Santana…l when she looked into my eyes and I saw her tear up, when I told her I loved her…then she put her head in my lap and fucking wept as I 'passed on'…_

_I did my play a disservice. I wasn't in the scene at all. I wasn't acting. I was like…really…loving her head in my lap—Anyway I'm just sorry if the energy felt a little more…tense…than it should have…I'm clearly going through some shit._

_After the show, Rachel insists on introducing herself to Santana, and of course Santana smirks and arches her chest as soon as I say Rachel's name…she knows exactly who this is, and she obviously hasn't forgotten what was said earlier…ugh…and I can't believe I'm watching Rachel not skipping a beat and openly ogling her. There's a hint of something besides embarrassment coursing through me…_

"_So this is the girl who's headshot's you're taking huh?" Rachel finally looks up to Satana's face._

"_Oh that's right, that's tonight, huh?" Santana bites her lip, not looking away from Rachel._

_My eyebrows are furrowing on their own and I'm not sure why. "Yeah!" I say loudly, just to get Santana's eyes off Rachel. Santana's head snaps to me and she smiles widely._

"''_Kay let's go." She leads the way out._

_Rachel wiggles her brows and heads off in the other direction. _

_I roll my eyes and follow Santana._

"_So I'm guessing your roommate does that every week or so?" She chuckles as we get in her car._

"_Um..,?"_

"_Throw you out I mean…Based on the few times I've encountered the bitch—sorry—she seems to be a bit 'fly-off-the-handle-y'."_

"_Oh that—yeah. Totally. Just another Quinncident you know," I smile awkwardly, fiddling with the radio. We stop at a red light and Santana's head turn y, taking her time to run her eyes from my ankles, to my calves, to the lap her face where just recently nestled on stage…and it's like she's touching me because I'm shivering._

"_So what is it about my tits that's got you gossiping to your friends?" Her eyes still fixed on my thighs._

"_Santana, the…uh the light. It's—"_

_Her eyes snap to mine. "What did you__** say**__ about my tits, Britt?"_

_I can hear horns honking in the background…and I know she's testing me._

_But I'm not saying a word._

"_Nothing." I gulp._

_She lifts a brow, "Hmph," She pauses, then continues to drive. The rest of the ride is silent._

_We get inside her apartment and she throws her keys on the counter after locking the door._

"_Wanna tell me why you went all Meryl Weep at the theater?" She's taking off her jacket and heading for the coat closet, with her back to me._

"_I mean…I thought you could guess that I was freaking out about the play," I say looking at the floor and crossing my arms._

_She turns to me from the closet. "You sure that was it?"_

"_Um yeah," I'm defensive, "The step-son's a pretty important role." I say noticing the tripod and stepping behind her Canon 5d._

"_I played the shit out of it though" she says with a hanger still in her hand, then noticing me behind the camera, "Hey, I'm not ready yet."_

_I look up over the camera and we lock eyes. I smirk at her and this huge grin spreads across her lips. I'm looking back at teeth, dimples, and theses smiling eyes that seem to be dying for my…approval? No…why would Santana Lopez need my…anyway, It's like we're both laughing at some secret even though neither of us knows what it is. She gets like..shy as she arranges her jacket and places it in the closet. All the while I'm still taking pictures. _

_She makes her way to me and starts looking at the photos I've taken, while I've got my hand on the side of the camera…I'm feeling pressure on my knuckles and I realize it's her chest. For the split second before I get nervous and yank my hand away, I feel the perfection of her curve. I'm telling you sincerely…and I'm not really even sure why either…but I have never wanted to touch a woman's body. Never. I've got my own. Don't get me wrong, I could see what the fuss is all about…but that's the whole point—it was all about __**seeing.**__ There's a lot more to look at. You got your boobs, hips, ass…I get it and I could always appreciate a pretty lady. But that was as far as it went. Maybe a prolonged gaze_

_I never thought I'd like the feel of a breast against the back of my hand. Even over her shirt, I could feel how smooth it was. The weight of it…what it might feel like under her bra… _

_Now that I think about it…there's no way she didn't know what she was doing. She had to have felt it. She wanted __**me**__ to feel it…_

_When I pulled my hand away, it certainly wasn't subtle, but neither of us looked away from the display on the camera. _

_There's silence. And it always feels like this with her. Like I'm a lioness circling my meal…and she is too, but it turns out we're both each other's bait. I can feel her looking at me, and not the photos._

"_Fine." She hisses._

_I look at her, confused. And now that I've turned my head in her direction, we are way too close. She huffs,_

"_I do. I look at you like I want to fuck you."_

_I step back and smile. "Why?"_

"_Clearly I do Brittany. Want to fuck you I mean," She's angry, but she steps forward back into my space._

"_Why?" I say again, smirking._

_She sighs…kind of rolling her eyes, but with a smirk playing on her lips too. "It's like…when you walked in to the theater that first day…you were my magnet. It's not the way you look…it's like,..who you are… I can't help how much I want you to want me. And there is something about everything you do that attracts me."_

"_All this because you're dying to hear what I said about your tits, huh?" I say, my smirk going into a smile._

"_Well that…and because it's true, Brittany. This wanting is not like…just about fucking. Like I have this—ugh this is so fucking stupid—urge to know everything you're thinking…and what got you there…"_

"_Because I'm the only person who didn't immediately kiss your ass."_

"_Well that's what I thought at first. But then I realized…I never gave a flying fuck about a __**girl**__ liking me. You know? Fuck 'em. But I cared what you thought about me. I mean…I do."_

"_Oh," I said shrugging playfully and turning away from her towards the bathroom. I could hear her blood boiling. She followed me into the bathroom, and as her arm reached out to grab for me, I turned and grabbed it, pulling her into me. She pushed back and slammed my back into the shower door. We stood toe to toe, panting._

_She smiles, squinting, knowing exactly what I'm doing._

"_I don't think so, Pierce. You don't run this show."_

"_You sure about that?"_

_She nods slowly, looking up at me. And I can't take my eyes off her fucking face._

_It's coming in close. She's holding my wrists at my chest as she whispers onto my earlobe._

"_Tell me what the fuck you said."_

"_You already know." I grunt._

"_I want to hear you say it."_

"_I said…"_

_She waits then squeezes my wrists tighter shoving me into the shower door again._

"_You have nice fucking tits. I said that to Rachel. I said it because when you were showing me the trap door…they looked so…shit…so good."_

_She turns my wrists around and puts her hands over mine, gently…placing my hands on her tits. We lock eyes._

"_You were arching your back, Santana. I don't know if you were doing it on purpose…but it was fucking hot...I wanted you…"_

_She's squeezing her hands over mine…making me knead. _

_She sucks in her breath through her teeth and presses her whole body into me. "You want me now?" she moans into my neck._


	8. Chapter 8

Community Theater 8

* * *

Yes yes yes yes . It ran through my mind like a fucking track star.

For a while, I even thought I was saying it, but I was only half way there...my mouth was open...nothing was coming out.  
And then something did.  
I was looking right in her eyes, switching from one to the other, watching her lick those fucking lips…  
When I moaned...not just loud but like...hard. Like I had been holding it in.  
She chuckled and took her hands off mine.  
"I'd like to take that as a yes, I really would…"  
I nodded my head, pleading with her, then sighing as I pulled my hands away from her chest, holding them behind my back…it was all too much.  
"But I'm gonna need to hear you say it" she smirked, slowly unbuttoning my shirt.  
All I could do was watch her. When you want something this bad. Fantasized about a moment so long...and it finally happens...you just let it...  
She dragged her finger down the space that my now open shirt left exposed.  
"Say you want me, Britt." She licked those luscious lips again, following the trail her finger's making with her eyes.  
I've started blinking again-which I didn't know I'd stopped. Then there's this weird excited shiver that won't stop running through my body. The hands I'm holding behind my back have their nails digging into each other.  
Maybe if I look down.  
_Fuck_  
her thighs in that pencil skirt…It's high-waisted so it hugs her… entirely.  
Are those her fingertips resting just underneath the waistband of my shorts?

But I'm not going to look up to check. Because if she's looking at me right now…I swear I'll –

The doorbell buzzes and we both jump. Then I look up. And yes…she was looking at me. As I lose my breath and we lock eyes, I notice that her lips are the slightest bit parted…and her eyes are hooded with so much lust that I find myself empowered by it. I start mirroring her expression and say, "I want you…"

She smirks.

"…To get the door"

Brown eyes blink, caught of guard.

I grin and start buttoning my shirt, shooing her hand away.

"Get the door, Santana"

She's looking from my shirt to my eyes, frowning, like some kind of scolded child.

I swoop in, still buttoning, and place a soft kiss just under her ear "Don't worry," I whisper, "It's yours."

I feel her eyelashes flutter against my cheek as she whimpers.

I stay in the bathroom and I watch her wobble to the door unsteadily, adjusting herself on the way. It's making me giggle.

I look myself over in the mirror. I'm shiny and my eyes are wild. I smile and brush the hair out of my face, but before I can process what just happened I hear,

"WHAT THE SHIT?!"

For some reason I get the feeling that I should hide. I start scanning the room, but the sound of someone running towards the bathroom is distracting.

"Brittany?!" Beth crashes in, but doesn't stop heading for the toilet "MOVE! GOTTA PEE."

I pretty much sprint to the living room. Santana's standing there with Puck.

"What the fuck?" Puck gestures to me, but the question is directed to Santana.

Santana shrugs.

"Are you guys like…friends now?" Puck's brows are furrowed.

"Well yeah. They're in theater class together," Beth walks into the room, still drying her hands on her pants.

"Go to bed," I say to her instinctively. "I mean sorry, I mean…I—"

"Was taking my headshots. She was taking my headshots." Santana widens her eyes at me then shakes her head…silently asking why the fuck I was being weird.

I tried to reply with a silent _I feel guilty_…_and naughty…but not necessarily the good kind I felt a few minutes ago._ But that's a pretty convoluted expression. So I think it just came out sort of cross-eyed.

"Anyway…this is my house…so really I should be asking what _you're_ doing here."

"She kept asking for you," Puck said lowly, eyes shooting to the ground.

Beth swung her arms around Santana's thighs and squeezed her tight.

"Does your mom know you're here, kid?" Santana said, petting the girl's arms.

"Nope." Beth and Puck said in unison.

"Did you call her?" I said, in a surprisingly shrill tone, to Puck.

"She blocked my number." He shrugged.

"So what's your plan here, Puckerman? Drop the kid off with me and make a run for it?" Santana shifts her weight and crosses her arms.

"…I kinda figured we could both spend the night…"

"Ew, no" Santana scowls.

"Really?" Beth is starting to pout.

Santana looks at Beth for a bit. It doesn't take long for her to break.

"Ugh, no…not really" she sighs. Brittany and Beth can sleep in the spare room, and Puck can take the couch."

Beth runs to me, hugging me the same way she was just hugging Santana…but now she squealing words no one can make out.

She races to the room and starts preparing for what I know she thinks will be a slumber party. The reality is, she'll be knocked out in 5 minutes flat.

The three of us "adults" discuss the situation in the living room.

"Ok, you call her then," Puck says pointing at me and frowning.

"She's not answering my calls…I've tried."

"Wait, what?" Santana turns to me. "I thought this was like a silly argument."

"I guess she thinks I'm on Puck's side?" I shrug.

"What?! How?" Puck erupts.

"Because of how…close …me and Santana are."

"So she randomly blew up at you _today?_ She and I have been fighting for weeks now…and she knows you're still going to your theater class so…"

"What's your point Puck?" Santana's on edge.

"I mean…something happened. Quinn's always needed a trigger…what about your friendship with Santana suddenly made her feel threatened…or jealous…?"

My eyes ballooned. I know they did. I was not expecting him to be so…perceptive.

"You really love her." I whispered, then clasped my hands over my mouth.

Puck shrugged. "She's the mother of my child. I'm not _in_ love with her—" His eyes dart to Santana—"But yeah. I love her. And I was a sucky dad and sucky partner for the short time I got to be with her…but I never stopped thinking about them…so…"

Santana and I shared a look of shifty eyes and raised brows.

"So what'd you do, Blondie?" Puck says, beginning to grab a comforter and a pillow and it bothers me how he's interrogating me _and_ that he's so familiar with his surroundings. I hated it._ Fuck you for knowing her house so well._

"I told her…" I look to Santana who's giving me the slightest squint. "I—I told her Santana's —"

"—Oh the best friend thing. You told her Santana was yours—God you girls are ridiculous…You can have more than one, you know….Mmm Quinn's never been good at sharing…." He says the last part as a yawn as he settles into the couch.

"Alright Chatty Cathy, goodnight." Santana rolls her eyes as she leaves the room. I pout for a little bit in the silent room, then find my way to the spare room…where, lo and behold, Beth is fast asleep. I don't even remember shutting my eyes, but my slumber was deep. Until 2:12 am. That's when my eyes snapped open and I was taken out of a dream with my own sharp inhale.

_Where was I? _ was my first panicked thought. I hopped up. _Why was my bed so close to the wall? _ Everything looked morphed-then I remembered-Santana's house. And _God…_ it was hot. I was on fucking fire…Beth's body heat was almost unbearable. I reached over to see if she had a fever and lurched when I felt a man boob.

"JESUS CHRIST PUCK!" I whispered.

He popped up, obviously started, " I—I told her—"

"Lemme sleep with my daddy," mumbled Beth from behind Puck's back and slinging her arm around his neck. He shrugged back to sleep.

_Gross._

I got up, closed the door as quietly as possible and headed for the living room…until I saw the dim light coming from Santana's room. As I approached, I noticed that the door was only slightly ajar . I pushed it just a little and peered in with the intention of asking if she was up…but I go the answer to my question.

Her naked back stared at me. She was up. Reading. Small lamp on. Shirt off. Blanket covering her hips to her knees.

The room was silent. I didn't step in…just looked on from the hallway.

_Was this ok? Staring? Did I have permission to take in all this exposed skin? _

But when she shifted, I quietly raced for the couch and slid in…pretending to sleep until it finally came.

* * *

The front door slamming woke me up in the morning,

"I'm sorry," I hear. I crack open an eye. Blurry…

I opened the other eye. Santana's standing by the door she just slammed in jogging attire. Like…lycra. Like…a sports bra and leggings. And fuck it all if she doesn't have a ridiculous glimmering six pack. Honestly, even as gorgeous as she is, I wasn't expecting _this_ level of perfection. I have to get away. So I get up to brush my teeth.

"Puck and Beth went back to his place for her stuff." She yells after me.

I pause as I smear some toothpaste on my finger. "Are they coming back?"

I hear nothing and am pretty positive she shrugged.

When I get back I sit on the couch and find myself again, trying not to openly gawk. So God damn hot. Like…I know she's talking to me and she's thinking I can carry on a normal conversation with so much golden skin exposed, but all I'm doing is using my peripheral vision to openly stare. Walking away was not a successful mind-clearer.

"Are you going to eat?" she said side-eyeing me.

I clear my throat.

"Jesus Britt, what?" She says dropping her spoon in her cereal.

"I mean…put on some clothes…" I say kind of angrily.

"Sorry…I assumed this was my house. I guess that was kind of dumb…just 'cause I pay the rent…have the only set of keys—"

I get up and throw my hands in the air, pretty much yelling, "For Christ sake! You read naked! You come in this morning wearing…_that—"_

"The fuck are you so mad about?" Now she's standing.

"I'm mad 'cause…I can't stop looking at you! And I hate that! I hate that you are so striking to me that I'm like…mesmerized. Like what the fuck is that!? It's ridiculous!"

Santana smirks. "You were watching me read last night?"

"No…the door was like—I was just passing by…Like why am I so affected by the sight of your naked back? I started thinking about—Jesus."

"About what?" Her voice is low and her eyes are boring a hole in my head.

"Laying next to you, Santana…wondering if you'd be ok with me finding you..like that. Waking up to you…"

Her eyebrows twitch.

"…and yet you can't tell me you want me when I'm groping you in the bathroom…" She finally says.

I smile. "No…I can't."

"Everything you just said qualifies as wanting me…you know that right?"

"Shut up."

She's smiling as she approaches and pulls me in by the back of my head. Luckily we found each other's lips…my eyes were closed before we even made contact. I'd been thinking about chewing these lips since the last time we'd kissed. Everytime we took a breath I opened my eyes to make sure I was really this close. She was really here. This was ok.

I didn't know what I was doing when she took off her pants. I'm pretty sure exercising without underwear is the most uncomf—oh fuck but who cares. I pushed her on the couch once the leggings got to her knees and kissed my way up to her thighs. I'd never even touch anything that wasn't mine before…and I'll admit…I was apprehensive about kissing this set of lips. But she sounded amazing and smelled…intoxicating. As soon as I got a taste…well I knew I always wanted to see her body tremble like that. I looked up and her face was twisted up with a thousand rushed emotions. I could tell she was chanting something to herself that was forcing her not to push my head further between her legs. _So Close_. That was her expression. She didn't just scream my name. She sang it. In an octave I've never heard before…and after her eyes were done rolling back, they transformed back into those of a shark…she changed back into predator from the prey.

I was on my back on the floor before she was done dripping. I didn't have time to wonder if I'd like it because once those lips were on my lower ones…_Holy Fuck_. Warm. Just warm and wet. I couldn't help undulating into her and chanting more. I did grab the back of her head when I came. I'm sorry…I squeezed the base of her ponytail and squeaked her name over and over and over.

Until I opened my eyes to Quinn standing over us.

If only I could quit climaxing.


End file.
